


Like Superman and Clark Kent

by shortstoriesforlove



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, El Profesor - Freeform, Explicit Consent, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Making Love, Part 1, Romance, Season 1, Sex, Shameless Smut, Soulmates, Sweet/Hot, a casa de papel, episode 12, la inspectora, salvador martin, seriously i just love these two, serquel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24860239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortstoriesforlove/pseuds/shortstoriesforlove
Summary: A closer look into Raquel and Sergio's first night together.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 94
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know the tags have already indicated it, but just to be on the safe side: this story will be pretty explicit. Please do not scroll down if that's not your cup of tea or if you're too young to read this type of thing.
> 
> Also, I took the liberty to blend some of the original quotes and scenes from the show into the story. (:

He has never felt a stronger urge in his life.

In fact, 'urge' has always been a foreign concept to Sergio, whose genetics and life experiences led him to find comfort in purely rational choices instead.

Raquel releases a self-conscious laugh, batting her long eyelashes at him, and Sergio would have found her embarrassment endearing if only her rosy cheeks and smoky eyes had not awakened a primal instinct within him. Sergio lets this unfamiliar feeling simmer on his chest for a few seconds, picking it apart. He could pretend, at least to himself, that being so proficient at compartmentalizing is at all feasible at this point; that a part of him can take advantage of the investigation through Inspector Murillo's beautiful brain while another side of him, completely autonomous, can genuinely enjoy Raquel's company and dive a little deeper into this surprising mutual attraction without a foul. He had arrogantly presumed he could convince this precious creature to let her guard down without dismantling his own armor in the process. But if he's honest with himself, the Mint is the last thing on his mind right now and what it suggests is simply the unthinkable: that a woman he met less than a week ago put his most sacred rule in check. This finding is unsettling - he's always pride himself for having a laser-like focus, after all - but as he wets his lips and notices her eyes zooming in on his mouth, Sergio finds himself losing his grip on the pull that she's been exerting on him since he first laid eyes on her at the Hanoi.

He can't resist this anymore.

Raquel must be feeling the same way because she finally lets her gaze rest on his for a lot longer than two heartbeats before approaching him unhurriedly.

Their first kiss is hesitant and quick, nothing more than two pairs of lips learning the shape of the other after consecutive days of fantasizing with getting a taste. Raquel retreats and the air in this little make-believe cider factory is charged with a different type of energy now that they are no longer dancing around this _thing_ between them.

It's not long before they kiss again, less tentatively this time around. Raquel's firm breasts press up against Sergio's chest as their mouths open with curiosity and that same sense of adventure with which _la Inspectora_ and _el Profesor_ battle over the phone. She tastes like the vodka they had just been drinking and something sweet that he can only describe as _Raquel Murillo_ ; the familiar scent of her hair is intoxicating when she's this close to him and it somehow adds to her flavor. Sergio holds her head in place and feels her fingers interlace around his neck, delicate knuckles brushing up against his ears.

They are both clearly playing with the possibility of having control over the other and digging the wet noise of their tongues and lips challenging each other.

She takes a step back and he startles at first, fearing she may be regretting this already. Then she whispers a clumsy promise not to hold him at gunpoint anymore and he finds it hard to follow her train of thought when his neurons are this hazy with the _gana_ to claim her. He quickly agrees with whatever point she's trying to make and tries to disarm her with one, two, three, four kisses... until she interrupts their interlude to swear she will never ever doubt him again. His patience is wearing thin now so he barely lets her finish, dismissing her concern with two shakes of his head and a soft bite on her lower lip. For some reason beyond his understanding, though, Raquel seems determined to keep on talking, stepping out of his reach to emphasize the pronoun transition he had proposed in Hanoi before all hell broke loose - _de ti, de ti, de ti_ \- and conclude that they finally shred any trace of formality between the two of them - _ya va siendo hora de dejar de tratarnos de usted,_ ¿ _no crees?_ Her smile is coy and it seduces him beyond insanity.

Sergio struggles to breathe through all this yearning, so he figures that stating his intentions a bit more clearly might as well get the job done - _yo creo que es momento de tutearnos, s_ í, - slowly divesting himself off his pleated dark grey suit, giving her plenty of time to confirm whether she, too, wants to take this further.

She follows his lead, - and it feels inconceivable to even line up these very words in a single sentence: _Raquel fucking Murillo is following Sergio Marquina's lead_ \- carelessly taking off her striped blazer in one go. 

He watches her launch herself at him, mapping out the muscles of his upper back before holding on to his hair, engulfing his mouth. Sergio circles his arms around her mid frame, bringing her body against his own with the need to feel all of her. His left hand slides up to grab the back of her slender neck, his fingertips playing with her caramel strands, her shoulder blades, her tiny waist.

Without breaking the kiss, their fingers work together on removing his tie and releasing the buttons of his shirt. Sergio slides her pink satin top over her head, gaping at the sight of her sexy bra that's keeping some of her femininity hidden from him - but only barely. It's too much skin and he can't get enough, so he reaches out to cop a feel as their mouths vigorously meet again. He scoops her up and carries her to his black leather couch, where he lies down, deliciously overwhelmed by the soft weight of her curves on top of him. 

Sergio and Raquel make out for long minutes, taking off their shoes without letting go of each other; licking and moaning and teasing and groping like he doesn't have to wrap up the greatest heist of Spain and she isn't committed to arresting a group of criminals who have turned her routine into a living hell.

Their lips part only briefly for her to help him shrug out of his shirt, guiding the fabric off his shoulders and arms. He enjoys her heated gaze appreciating his exposed upper body - diffident as he may be, so eager to please her - before bringing her closer by the nape of her neck so they can continue kissing while her fingers explore the planes of his thorax. His own hands skim down her body, delighted with the glorious feel of her leather skirt trying (in vain) to contain the expanse of her ass underneath his palm, though his hunger is asking for more. Sergio lowers the zipper by her left hip, careful not to hurt her in the process.

Raquel smiles against his mouth as if his consideration takes her excitement up a notch and pushes herself on her tiptoes to shim out of the heavy fabric. His eyes follow the curves of her gorgeous body from top to bottom, then travel back up to concentrate on the tantalizing cut of her black thong. Eventually, he catches her looking at the tent on his pants, biting her swollen lips in a gesture full of malicious intentions. He gives her no time to even consider undressing him, as he pulls her by the hand to straddle him more freely now that she's wearing nothing but lingerie.

Raquel scratches the skin of his abs before balancing her weight on his hip bones, trying to avoid falling off his narrow sofa. The friction her nails provoke is so delicious that Sergio unintentionally grunts out her name like an interjection. She bends to taste his lips with a smile of self-satisfaction, holding his lower body in place so she can move her center back and forth against the undeniable evidence of his hunger through his trousers. She kneels on the couch, her legs all around him and her palms brushing up against his chest hairs, looking at him straight in the eye from above without any hint of embarrassment as she purposefully grinds her hips against his, undoubtedly giving him a preview of how good she will ride him once their clothes are no longer separating them.

(He catches the promise in her eyes.)

Sergio places an attentive hand behind the small of Raquel's back to steady her as he sits up until his frame is resting on the back pillows of the couch, his feet touching the cold floor. Taking a few seconds to admire her curvy thighs, the top of her luscious breasts, her beautiful messy hair, - and marveling at how such a strong powerful woman can feel this mellow in his arms, - Sergio strums his fingers up and down her backbone, feeling her small body hairs stand up in anticipation. He stops his ministrations only to unhook her bra with a _click_.

Once the straps are barely hanging from her shoulders, he looks timidly at her, asking for permission. She willingly gives it to him with a smirk, revealing herself as the soft fabric falls dramatically on the floor. Her arms are at ease on her sides as she looks completely comfortable in her own skin; her self-confidence only serving to make him want her even more categorically. 

Most of all, the sight of her bare breasts makes him salivate. 

Sergio drums the tip of his fingers through her slim ribs, inching closer to where he truly wants to touch her right now but taking his time watching her, fascinated as he is with the perfection of her measurements and shapes and colors.

His eyes find hers and he wishes he could say something, frustrated that no words are coming out even though his lips are closing and parting. Without dropping her gaze, Sergio bows to taste the tight light-brown peak on the right side of her chest as his right palm tests the weight of her left breast. The second their skins meet, Raquel squeezes her eyes shut in an expression of unshielded bliss, arching backwards in slow motion until the tips of her hair tickle his kneecaps, multiplying his craving for her.

"Salva," she wails, bringing her hands up to hold onto the nape of his neck as if she is about to faint. His own eyes close in a guilty reflex to the dreamy sound of her voice saying a name that is not truly his. For a brief second, he asks himself if he truly is capable of providing the type of release that this woman wants and deserves. Either way, Sergio stretches out his jaw to devour her right bust like she has what it takes to quench his thirst. (And he is so fucking thirsty right now.) He pinches her left nipple with the side of his index finger and thumb and starts sucking her right breast, carefully rolling the delicate skin between his teeth before pumping it with his lips, feeling her hips rock eagerly against his thighs, her hands keeping his face close to her chest.

"Salva, _por favor_." He lets go of her with a _pop_ and quickly admires the now darker tone of her castigated brown nipple, completely excited, before looking up to find her lusty eyes and open mouth. (He's never seen anything sexier.) Blowing little kisses on her chest as he shifts his focus to her other breast, Sergio watches her every reaction as he nuzzles her left tit. His left thumb finds it so easy to slide against her right nipple, now sloppy with his saliva.

She hisses, stubbornly keeping her gaze on his, and he smiles, flattening his tongue all around her left areola, then moving the very tip left to right, left to right, left to right nonstop. 

Raquel muffles a curse when the pad of his middle finger slides down her tummy to tap her pussy through the tempting lacy fabric she chose to wear tonight. Her impatience takes over when she grabs his right wrist and shoves his hand into her panties, releasing a sob of relief when his fingerprints meet her delicate intimacy. 

" _Raquel_ ," Sergio exhales into the valley between her breasts, his eyes rolling unexpectedly with the realization that her desire might as well match his - something he didn’t think was at all possible. His forehead rests on her clavicle, concentrated on getting his breathing under control as if he will blow his load in his underpants otherwise, his fingers playing with her without a conscious command.

"You are _so wet_ ," he enunciates the obviousness of her condition, so close to her that he can feel her nodding her head in agreement.

"I am, yes," she whispers, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head.

Breathing in the scent of her perfume and basking in the scalding temperature of her body, Sergio easily inserts one, and then two of his fingers into her tight wet channel, pumping Raquel as his thumb rests on her clit, his other hand on the small of her back encouraging her body to move in tandem with him if she wishes to do so. 

They pant shallowly right by each other's ears, eyes closed to amplify this shared pleasure of skin sweeping against skin, until Sergio retreats his fingers and uses his body weight to press her body down against the seat cushion, meticulously laying her on her back. He ignores his painful erection and her disapproving eyes, tugging her panties down her hips so she can kick them out of the way as they share a deep slow kiss.

Sergio provides no resistance when Raquel's fingers deftly undo the button of his pants and drag his zipper down unceremoniously, massaging him through the fabric, her toes pushing both his trousers and boxers down his legs as far as she can reach. He stands so his clothes may drop somewhere between the couch and the coffee table, pumping his hard-on a few times, irrationally disconcerted about having her watch his fingers work around his excited member. With his free hand, Sergio leisurely pushes her legs further apart, verifying what he never doubted,

“You are magnificent, Raquel,” he murmurs in a timbre he can barely recognize as his own.

He shakes his head in disbelief as he drinks in the sight of her exquisite naked body right before his watchful eyes, feeling flames of desire licking at the base of his spine as suddenly and insistently as when she told him to look at her from under the table. (Breathing is even more challenging to him now than it was back then.)

Even though she is completely exposed to him, he feels like he is the one entirely vulnerable to her. If Raquel really wanted to, she could extract any truth, deception or insecurity out of him right at this instant. 

Sergio stares at her pink glistening womanhood, licking his lips in anticipation.

"Salva," she protests as if reading his plans to drag this on as he knows she wants to rush him, rush this.

Looking at her in the eye as if only Salva could pacify her - or perhaps the Professor could convince her that he is the one in charge right now, - Sergio takes off his glasses, placing them on top of his chess board, somewhere between a pawn and a rook.

He guides her feet to rest on his shoulders, carefully balancing his right knee on the very edge of the couch, his left foot still on the floor. Feeling her body show no signs of discomfort as it relaxes on the couch, he gently kisses her ankles, rubbing up his beard against her shins and calves, tasting the tender skin of the back of her knees, taking a long time to explore the soft texture of the inside of her thighs. (He’s suddenly grateful for whatever experience, no matter how limited, he’s had so far and even more so for reading erotic literature every other Summer and hearing all about Andrés’ sexual adventures over bottles of wine.) By the time he notices her nails digging into the surface of the couch, Sergio's face is close enough to capture the strong, tangy scent of her nectar. The temptation to taste her is compelling but, more than anything else, he wants tonight to be memorable to _her_.

He keeps on running his short fingernails up and down the outside of her thighs and waits for her to look at him again before giving her a slow, long lick, coming to a halt only when the very tip of his tongue bumps up against her engorged clit.

“ _Joooderrrr_ ,” Raquel elongates her exclamation, her legs shaking, but he is determined to take it slow, paying close attention to every single detail of her neatly-trimmed pussy - her pubic fur groomed enough to contrast with his facial hair, but not completely bare that she would look like anything other than a grown woman.

Lifting the same knuckles that minutes ago were playing with her, Sergio gently strokes her outer lips with his index and middle fingers, switching between watching them at work and her beautiful face react to his touches.

He kisses her outer labia just as he did her mouth: a game of lips teasing lips. And, as far as playing goes, Sergio Marquina has all the time in the world. But Raquel is the type of woman - an indefectible opponent, really - who makes a man adjust his plans to her liking. When he sees her reach out to cup her breasts, twitching her nipples to heighten the sensation that he is creating below her navel, the vision she provides is so aphrodisiac that Sergio finds himself diving into her cunt with a desperate groan as if she is the one calling the shots when all along he thought he was in charge. His tongue reaches into her entrance, making love to her as he watches her tossing her head from side to side, eyes closed and lips bruised from her own bites. Wanting to learn of her likes and dislikes, Sergio gently licks her inner labia for a few minutes, observing her reactions, before retreating, knowing that the lack of his advances will get her immediate attention.

She scowls at him with the darkest pair of eyes he's ever seen and that's when he hesitantly asks, "Let me hear you?" going back to gently kissing her vulva without waiting for an answer, his taste buds overwhelmed with her essence and still craving more. 

" _Salva_ ," her needy voice is enough to make him consume her with more intention, so much so that his nose is digging into her pubic bone, sucking her clit into his mouth in the same fashion as he did earlier with her nipples. 

He feels her heels digging into his back the moment his tongue draws circles around her swollen bud, her moans getting lustier. His arms stretch out to hold her legs wide open so he can eat her with even more enthusiasm, relaxing his flattened tongue and moving his head up and down to massage her sensitive flesh in a much softer caress. Her right hand moves lower to hold his head in place, leaving her right breast unattended. Sergio's left hand climbs up to flick her nipple three or four times before cupping her full mount with _gusto_ as his mouth switches between sucking her clit and flicking it with the tip of his hardened tongue.

“There!” Her hand pulls a fistful of his hair without a drop of mercy, enhancing his awareness of her. “Don’t stop, _pleasedon’tstop_ ,” she pleads loudly, almost desperately.

His head shakes against her sensitive tissues, letting her know that there's no way he’s stopping, tending her clit with the motion she so clearly enjoys.

She’s unabashedly moving her hips against his face, chasing her own pleasure through his mouth. He doesn't know anymore if he's fucking her or she's fucking him, but keeps on downing mouthfuls of her juices like there's no tomorrow. 

The longer he eats her, the more vigorously Raquel undulates her torso and it is a sight to behold, though eventually he restrains her hips to ensure she will keep on taking everything he has to give. Her legs are spread out, two elegant feet curling in the air, and all of her fingers are scratching his scalp at this point, enchanting his fake name like a mantra.

Sergio furiously sucks on to her inner lips and clit all at once, firmly balancing his weight on his knees. The sounds she's making head straight to his groin and he gives into the need to squeeze himself a few times, growling his pleasure into her pussy. The vibration seems to be enough to make her legs tremble and he takes it as a clue to keep doing whatever it takes for her to come beautifully against his mouth.

" _Dios mío,_ I'm gonna c-," she howls, suffocating him as her thighs close around his head, interlacing her fingers with his own on top of her abdomen. Their eyes shortly meet before she throws her head back against the arm of the couch, her chest and face becoming as flushed as her pink cunt. Sergio sees her body curl with the strength of her orgasm, her pussy quivering with pleasure as he keeps on savoring her; a ghost of his licks cleaning any trace of her flavor or his saliva.

As she slowly recovers, lazily planting her feet on the couch, he rests his head on the side of her right knee, blowing raspberry kisses on whatever skin he can reach, willing his heart rate to slow down. He runs a hand over his beard to spread out some of her juices that may be concentrated there, his eyes stuck on her gorgeous face.

She guides his head towards hers with a trembling hand behind his ear. When their eyes meet and the tip of their noses touch, Raquel’s face breaks into a knockout smile.

"That's a talented tongue you have there, Salva."

The way she hums against his mouth lets him know how much she enjoys tasting herself on him.

Sergio bends her head to the side and deepens the kiss but his composure falters when she sneaks a hand between their bodies to massage his hard-on. She purrs longingly as the palm of her hand smears his pre-cum all over his sensitive head, her thumb and index finger forming a tight ring that skillfully moves up and down his shaft. His face falls between her breasts with a cry, his hips following the cadence of her wrist on their own accord.

Raquel lets him go to brace herself on her elbows and lock her ankles around the back of his knees, pushing her body forward so strongly that their positions switch across the couch. Sergio adjusts his head on the arm rest opposite to the one hers has just been. She's now on top and he's watching her body tower over his. The sight itself is almost enough to make him come undone: her powerful thighs anchoring his narrow hips, her hands pressing down on his chest, the mass of her bronze hair falling to one side of her face, her hungry focus on his hardened member as she prepares herself to fulfill the silent promise he caught in her eyes earlier on.

"Protection?" asks Raquel, bending over so her lips can reach his. 

Because she brushes a cheek against his beard and tastes the salty skin of his neck, Sergio finds himself too distracted to catch her drift. Once her words sink in, though, he quickly reaches out for his trousers on the floor and fishes his wallet out of its right back pocket.

During the interim that it takes for him to tear the wrapper open and place the empty package on the coffee table, he thinks of how differently this night would end if not for a series of events he failed to predict in Toledo when all he had on Inspector Murillo were ten pages of her most relevant life events and a picture hanging from his classroom board. Had he satisfied himself in engaging with her only superficially (as planned,) had Sub-inspector Rubio never questioned her willingness to sleep with the stranger she met in Hanoi during an intoxicated late-night phone, had her work partner never followed Salva to this warehouse, Sergio most likely would not have allowed himself to contemplate taking such an unattainable woman like her to bed - _ever_ , and certainly not in these circumstances, in the middle of his life-long planned heist. He definitely would not have gone to the pharmacy earlier today to buy a stash of condoms for the first time in many years. Ignoring the most relevant questions regarding how badly his decoy taints the possibility of anything genuine ever happening between the two of them - and if it's at all possible for a person like her, with black and white notions of morality, to tell these things apart, - he asks himself less critical points that seem all pivotal now: would she carry on if he had been caught unprepared? Would she say _no_ and leave? Would she pull out a condom that she keeps on her bag just in case she meets somebody at a bar?

None of it seems to matter when her graceful hands wander around his chest, teasing his nipples, rasping her nails along his stomach - all part of her strategy to turn his focus back on her as if she knows him well enough already to tell when his mind goes off a tangent. Under her keen scrutiny, Sergio bites his lips as he unrolls the latex all around his sturdy cock, pinching the end of the condom with his thumb and index finger. 

Eager as she is, Raquel doesn't waste a second before tilting her hips and insinuating the head of his penis against her opening. 

They regard each other zealously before her hand releases him as she lets gravity take her body all the way down his shaft in one go.

Hearing her sob and seeing the corner of her eyes lift - as if claiming him is just what she needs after a tough day at work - is the last thing Sergio registers before the exhilarating feel of her snug slick walls choking his cock overcomes him, causing his head to fall backwards in ecstasy, all his blood rushing south.

He seems to have forgotten how to breathe properly but shouts out her name like his life depends on it.

His shaky hands run towards the sweet curve of her hips, fingers sinking into her flesh and bones as if to ground himself. Raquel keeps him deep inside of her for a few beats, like she too needs a moment to adjust to his invasion, combing her fingers through her hair strands as she moves her lower body in small sensual circles.

She looks amazing, _feels incredible_ , and clearly knows exactly what she's doing. It wouldn't take much more for Sergio to climax embarrassingly soon.

Their eyes meet when she starts moving up and down his length, vocalizing her pleasure with sexy breathy gasps every time she takes him all the way in. Sergio looks down to the place where their bodies are joined and watches his dick stretch out her labia, disappearing into her, then coming back out. The sight of her juices dripping all over him makes him expand like never before.

" _Raquel_ ," he grunts the very moment she starts picking up speed, crawling his eyes back to hers and squeezing her waist before sliding the palms of his hands upwards to experiment with the weight of her bouncing breasts. Her face twitches with pleasure when he cups the luscious pair as her body continues moving vertically, his thumbs twirling her overly perfect and already aroused nipples.

Raquel launches herself forward to kiss him hard, their torsos leisurely rubbing up against one another.

Though she's fully lying on top of him now, her tempo never vacillates; her pussy keeps on swallowing him oh so sweetly, her toes brushing up against his shins. The change of angle works perfectly for his hands to sprawl on her curvy ass - the feeling of her abundant meat under his digits so fucking perfect as to precipitate a burning sensation down his groin.

"You feel so good," she whimpers against his lips, stealing his words and bracing herself on her hands right by his ears.

"You feel _amazing_ , Raquel," he complements, completely out of breath, battling with the irony of never having been more sincere though he's swimming in a pool of lies that he himself orchestrated.

She keeps on taking him in and out of her, only impossibly faster now, moaning _salvasalvasalva_ in one breath as her tits slap across his face. He chases her nipples with his lips, kisses her collarbone, nibbles her earlobe and the tendon on the side of her neck - the one that seems to make her purr every time he plays with it. One of his hands clutches the small of her back as the other grazes the smooth skin between her shoulder blades.

Her movements slow eventually as her fingers splay over his pecs, pushing her frame away from his.

He fills Raquel to the hilt when she sits back on his lap, squatting on his rock-hard member without touching him anywhere else. Sergio hears a sharp cry leave her lips and sees her face twist like he's hitting a spot just right. The visual of this gorgeous woman repeatedly sitting up and down his crotch - precariously balancing herself on nothing but the balls of her feet, her spine straightened up with aplomb, the muscles on her thighs working ferociously, her beautiful hands cupping her breasts - is so delirious that Sergio leans back to appraise this quite spectacular view, committing every detail to memory. He folds his arms behind his head, hands hanging from the couch, exposing his chest - surrendering his whole self - completely to her.

By the time they are drenched in sweat, Raquel starts slowing down.

Before he can catch a breath, though, she suddenly squeezes her inner muscles around his stiff dick, and nothing - not even a previous warning, which never came - could have prepared Sergio for this unprecedented stimulation. “¡ _JO-DER!”_ he curses his astonishment separating the two-syllable word, eyes open wide, knocking the back of his head against the cushion, grinding his teeth so hard that his mandible hurts.

"Ohhh," she throws him a filthy smirk, "You like that, uh?" repeating the move tortuously slow this time around, effectively suffocating his cock with her vagina, then drawing elliptical shapes with her hips, barely keeping his overstimulated head at her entrance.

Something about her teasing him like this and a level of hunger he's never felt before stir a need for control from his very core.

For a few seconds, they stay as they are, eyes grazing, chests heaving.

Apparently calm, though boiling inside, Sergio pushes her hips down against his hardness, forcing her weight forward so firmly that she falls on all fours, facing him. They share a dangerous, desirous smile, and he thinks she can tell he won't be idle anymore; trusts she will tell him if it’s reaction is out of bounds. Without letting go of her eyes, he grabs her ass cheeks with an authoritative grip that he's generally unaccustomed to outside his ‘classroom’.

She lets him guide her lower body back and forth on his dick, in fact appreciates it, offering no resistance at first, then emulating his silent commands.

Their tempo builds up.

From now on, whenever Raquel sinks down on him, - which she does, voraciously so, - Sergio bucks his hips upwards against hers, and they keep on investing themselves like this over and over and over, developing a rhythm that's all their own. The slick sound of their bodies pounding into each other echoes through the walls of his warehouse, rivaling with his unchecked grunts and her thunderous moans.

" _Salvador_ ," she supplicates, her tone libidinous and exhausted, and he takes it as a warning that she's getting close.

(God knows he has been there for a quite awhile now.)

He watches as she licks the pad of her middle finger without pulling her eyes away from his, descending that same hand to the apex of her thighs. The moment she circles her own clit - and he counts: once, twice, three times, - Raquel contorts her body, calling out to his alias. He sees the waves of her climax rolling through her limbs, senses it in the way her nails dig deep into his shoulders.

The sensation of her scorching tissues spamming around his member is absolutely mind-blowing and just what it takes for the rest of the world to fade away as he falls over the edge with a roar. Sergio feels the air flush out of his mouth, unable to retain any molecule in his lungs, his palms firmly holding her body in place as his hips aggressively buck up against hers, emptying his balls into the condom - though, in his mind, with a chunk of guilt, he envisions doing it straight into her vaginal walls instead (a thought that has never crossed his mind before.)

She melts into him.

They hold each other, breathing heavy, their hearts beating uncontrollably against their rib cages. She closes a fist into his hair, he rubs her back ever so gently, and they kiss at a languorous pace, without any rush. 

Raquel and Sergio part only by a fraction to find each other's lips curving up, eyes filled with satisfaction.

Carefully holding to the base of his flaccid penis, he pulls out of her body in one steady move, untangling their limbs. Tasting her lips one last time before reaching towards the floor and pulling his boxers back on, Sergio walks to the lavatory located a few feet away from where she is. He wraps the used condom in a small piece of toilet paper and throws it in the garbage bin.

As he quickly washes his cock in the sink, he hears Raquel sigh and move around somewhere behind him.

Taking a second to check his face in the mirror, and barely recognizing himself in the beaming expression staring right at him, he walks back to find her casually untangling her hair with her fingers in a corner of the couch like she belongs right here, her smiley eyes searching his. The simplicity of the scene is devastatingly irresistible. He timidly offers a white hand towel dampened with warm water to her - just in case she may want to use it - and she accepts it with a grateful smile.

He leaves her cleaning herself to grab a crimson quilt, hoping she's willing to spend the rest of the night with him. Finding her with nothing but panties on, her round breasts still on full display, and her back reclined against the armrest where her hair was sprawled as he ate her up no more than an hour ago seems to be enough of an answer to him.

Without exchanging a single word, Sergio and Raquel arrange their bodies in the small space of his squeaky couch. He lies flat on his back and stretches out his right arm to tuck her against his side. As he drapes the thick cover over their bodies, her torso fits into his ribs and their legs interlace.

Sexual intercourse has never felt particularly alluring to Sergio, and the sparse times in which he engaged with a woman under those terms were more out of curiosity and opportunity rather than a genuine connection. This moment right here - the post coital phase specifically - has always been the part he dreaded the most. But everything regarding what happened tonight, including this instant, feels different - natural, intuitive, _right_ \- with Raquel.

She nests her face into the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle, unhasty kiss in that spot that, before her, he never knew precipitated goosebumps all over his body - like it does now. Her lips curl up when he shudders, and she patiently soothes the prickled skin of his arms, breastbone, and stomach with the softest touch, placating his nerves so effortlessly. His right hand rubs the curve of her hip over the quilt and his left one cradles her face as he bends his own to drop a gentle kiss on her forehead, her temple, the corner where her lips meet. He lifts her right hand - the one currently playing with his chest hairs - to kiss each of her knuckles, his eyes closed in adoration for a second or two. 

"I guess this is all part of your plan, uh?" her voice is deliciously hoarse but her tone is disapproving - a stark contrast to the affectionate woman whose cold feet were just brushing up against the ball of his feet in an attempt to steal some of his warmth.

Like any liar would, Sergio holds his breath and feels his muscles go rigid. His hand releases hers and drops on his taut abs like it's made of stone. He swallows nervously, his eyes jumping from one wall to the other. "Hm?" he questions, evasively, avoiding her eyes and already calculating prospective responses - an in-depth combinatorial analysis, really - to counter whatever arguments she may raise. His mind runs in a dozen different directions: where and how he may have given something away; did she truly figure him out before their date in Hanoi and carried on with it anyway?

"Is that how you usually do it?" she insists, enigmatically, poking the tip of her index finger into his sternum in an accusatory manner, the physical sensation steering his attention to her.

He meets her somber expression with a frown.

"You know what I mean," Raquel shrugs as if her narrative is self-explanatory, though Sergio has no idea what exactly she's referring to. She braces herself on her left elbow, sliding her nails all the way down to his navel, her pinky resting dangerously close to his groin. When her eyes skim through his, she snickers against his biceps and adds with a sassy inflection,

"Lending your phone to unknown women before charming them to your cider factory."

Sergio barks out a laugh of relief that shakes the whole sofa as his arms tighten around her frame. All his anxiousness dissipates in a rush of adrenaline running through his veins so briskly that it almost makes him dizzy.

"Wait," she asks suspiciously before he can even reply, raising an eyebrow and propping her chin up on his chest to regard him more closely, "What did you think I meant?"

"N-nothing," he rushes to clarify, trying to adjust his glasses in that mannerism so out of habit that he only notices he doesn't have them on when his thumbnail meets the naked skin of the bridge of his nose, "It's just..." he hesitates, shaking his head as he tries to come up with some truth amongst all the lies he's been feeding her from the get-go in a way to legitimize his response. "Sometimes I can't tell if you are being serious or just having fun at my expense."

Being truthful, even if by a small amount, feels better than Sergio expected. He looks to the ceiling as she chuckles against his collarbone and the absurdity of this whole situation - combined with an irrational will to be transparent with this wonderful woman - suddenly hits him with full force. Sergio has always been fascinated with puzzles and, if he looks at it closely, it's no surprise he would be drawn to the beautiful walking paradox that Raquel Murillo truly is: an intense, dominant lover seemingly willing to cede command, confident at work and self-effacing in the private moments, an infrangible survivor as delicate as a lily, so deep at times and completely playful at others. 

"If I am being honest, I can't quite figure you out most of the time." 

The sincerity of his words shocks him.

Their breathing patterns fall in sync, chests rising and falling as their eyes ricochet back and forth in this little bubble they've created for themselves.

"You never answered my question," Raquel murmurs and something in her gaze tells him she's not changing the subject but rather diving into it. "Is that how you usually do this?"

This is a golden opportunity for Sergio to choose whether to play the part of the clueless Salva or let her in - an unreasonable voice in his head severely favors the later, if only for the hope of someday restoring whatever it is that they have; or flirt with the idea of an alternative universe where he would not have been the mastermind behind the heist and she would not be leading the investigation in detriment of his band.

"Not particularly, no."

His left hand reaches out for her right one once again, looking at her textures of her skin as he gathers the nerve to unveil the secrets he wants to (and can) share with her.

"In fact, this is not something I do at all."

Her fingers tighten on his and he isn't sure if she means for him to stop or keep going, so he makes up his mind, meticulously selecting which information to keep to himself and which to share.

"I do believe in cooperation over competition. And if I'm able to help a person in need, I do it in a heartbeat." When his rationality screams that this is dangerous and he may be giving too much away, the weight of her attention on him and the intimate way their hands just fit assure him otherwise. "Had it been anybody else - a college student, a middle-aged man, a nun - needing a phone, I would lend them mine and carry on with my day."

Naturally, he omits the part where he had been watching her for months, had researched that the Hanoi is a popular spot for coffee lovers around the region where the carp would be instated, had intended to find a breach and get close to her. Still, once again, amongst all these things he cannot say, there are some that he can and he chooses to.

“But there was something about you, Raquel.” He stops to watch their knuckles interlace and the palms of their hands slide against one another, hers so much smaller and ten thousand times softer than his. "I couldn't stop looking at you." 

She snorts, incredulously, 

"At the end of my work day, looking like a lunatic?"

Raquel bumps his earlobe with the tip of her nose as she shakes her head in contestation. 

"At the end of your work day," Sergio nods, resolutely, "tired and stressed out, without an ounce of make-up, and so naturally beautiful."

A part of him feels uneasy about disclosing so much of himself, but it's kind of relieving too.

"I know it comes out as a cliché, but it wasn't about your clothes or your hair style or that breathtaking smile of yours - though I was fully aware of each of those things." He lets go of her to awkwardly run his fingers through his hair. "It was about your posture, your willingness to show your vulnerability in a world where everybody - myself included - lives on autopilot, the tone of your voice telling whoever that mailbox belonged to that you would not sell out your principles to crack the case-"

He sees her mouth part in surprise, or maybe outrage, and settles the matter,

"Yes, of course I heard that."

Darting his gaze towards her to ensure she isn't mad or suspicious, he proceeds. "And when you left, well, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Suddenly unsure, Sergio bites his lips and takes a deep breath before tentatively meeting her eyes. The sight of her tongue wetting her lips and her pupils swallowing her irises takes his breath away. He knows he's walking a fine line but he can't stop himself from saying,

"I didn't plan to go back to the Hanoi as often as I did, but I would be lying if I said I didn't appreciate every time I met you there." 

The room is dead quiet, saved for their labored breaths, and Sergio hopes he hasn't messed it all up. 

Raquel exhales, folding herself around his frame, and sighs when he locks his arms around her waist.

“You see,” she utters quietly like she's about to uncover a state secret privilege, running her closed lips and nose back and forth against his beard, “I haven't quite figured you out either.” 

Sergio doesn't know how to respond; the subject is far too close to comfort. But he can feel her looking at him in a conspiratorial manner, as if she's taking this very moment to analyze him. He chuckles because, even from the very corner of his field of vision, he can tell she's being quite obvious.

He asks her what she's doing and she pretends that she's about to fall asleep, saying she's not doing anything at all.

He snorts and presses the issue, letting her know he can tell he's under her scrutiny.

Their gazes lock, and Sergio feels his heart pound in his chest.

Her voice is low and soft when she articulates that he looks like a different man without his glasses, like Superman and Clark Kent. 

They laugh together - he thinks she's unbelievable, - and kiss tenderly for a few seconds.

After teasing that he takes her comment as a declaration that she prefers him with glasses on - though she denies it, - Sergio decides to play along and reach out to the black frame, joking that this is not a fashion he normally favors when going to sleep but, hey, it's a special day and he might as well make an exception for her, enjoying the adorable sound of the giggles she throws his way.

Sergio inhales and all he can breathe is her scent, feeling the images it evokes - her hand reaching out to his across the table, her smirk every time she teases him, her body tempting his self-control, that throaty laugh he’d recognize anywhere - purify the darkest corners of his soul. When she's in his arms like this - laughing so close to his ear, soft puffs of air leaving her elegant nostrils to tickle the sensitive skin of his neck, her hand tugging on his strands, her silky hair sprawled across his biceps and shoulder, her warmth seducing him underneath the covers - for the very first time in his adult life, there is no sense of loneliness, no _feeling adrift_. 

His eyes search hers, finding them looking down at his lips.

"Better?" asks Sergio, playfully, and her brown orbs climb up to dive into his, her face no longer gleeful but intensely fixed on his.

Her response comes out as a passionate slow kiss, holding his head in place as she sucks on his lips and rotates her hips into his.

Raquel tastes amazing and the sound of her laugh seeing her Superman turn into Clark Kent replays in his mind, coloring his otherwise grey world, spreading flames of a sentiment he can only classify as _happiness_ \- an unachievable feeling he never quite understood before - all across his chest.

(...he thinks he gets it now, what it means.)

She doesn't know it yet - and, if everything goes according to 'plan', perhaps she never will, - but Inspector Raquel Murillo has already figured him out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya (: 
> 
> I deeply appreciate everyone who has read, left kudos and/or reviewed chapter one :)  
> I am still in awe at the waves and waves of love & positivity you sent my way, and so very thankful for them!
> 
> My heartfelt gratitude to OldStone for (i) being so awesome, (ii) chatting with me about LCDP, Serquel and life, (iii) reading my ramblings and going over chapter two with me. It would have already been amazing if you had simply proofread it, but you truly did a whole lot more than that. All mistakes are mine; this story is way better because of you! 
> 
> Now… deep breaths.  
> I know it took a while for me to update this story.  
> Here’s to hoping it was worth the wait. ;)

The fact that such a solemn man is indulging in her silly superhero anecdote feels surprisingly exciting, but it's the pressure of his left hand fondling the small of her back in an interesting amalgam of tenderness and eagerness that truly makes her stomach flutter. 

Sergio's mouth closes in on her bottom lip as he locks his arms around her frame with a low groan. In the flash of a second that it takes for Raquel to react to that luscious sound and push her tongue past his gifted lips, she finds herself getting hungry for him all over again. Her belly rubs up against the toasty skin of his torso and her covered crotch insinuates itself on his hip bone as if she hasn't come twice already, as if she won't be deliciously sore in the morning as it is. 

She is so tempted to stay until sunrise, but the pull of reality – her obligations to Paula, Mariví and the government – is way heavier. 

The Professor's metallic voice worms into her thoughts at this conclusion, probing on whether she is the type of woman who sneaks out of someone’s bed in the middle of the night. Thinking back to that conversation, she told him she wasn’t and yet here she is, plotting her escape. An unexpected wave of guilt overtakes her, drowning out the effect of Sergio's enticing breath against her mouth and the delightful roughness of his facial hair beneath the palm of her hand. She thinks why the hell she is giving that sociopath any real estate in her brain when she’s this close to a wonderful man who is his polar opposite. She shouldn't be dwelling on any of this anyway, Raquel scolds herself, because she told Ángel that a good shake would give her something different to think about – and God knows her Superman slash Clark Kent has given her plenty tonight. 

Their lips detach and she retreats just enough to catch his eye.

_Lo que pasa es que no me puedo quedar a dormir, lo siento_ – she touches the side of his face in an appeasing manner, finding his clever eyes carefully studying hers while she tries to gauge his mood. The sound of his loud exhale fills the otherwise silent room as she extricates her limbs from his.

Though Raquel holds onto a piece of the quilt to cover her breasts, the immediate loss of the warmth their bodies had conjectured up is flagrant.

All she wants is to rescind her words and fall back into his arms.

Behind her, the couch squeaks as Sergio rearranges himself. There is something about the intensity of his gaze following her hands hook the clasps of her bra back in place, the balls of her feet touching the rug, that makes Raquel feel incredibly sexy. She takes a quick look at him from over her shoulder and realizes his face betrays the same disappointment that is germinating inside of her.

She sticks to her plan, though, dismissing the way he is looking at her with puppy eyes as a strategy to get her to stay.

Though he does not ask, she discloses her wish to wake up with her daughter; take her to school as any socially conformed mother would do. Though he agrees with a half-smile and an understanding nod, he is doing a lousy job of camouflaging his frustration. But the tone of his voice is judicious when Sergio addresses how she still has seven or eight hours until the day officially starts.

After letting her satin blouse slip back around her frame, Raquel turns to the side to indulge him, a crafty smile gracing her lips, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear in that way she knows captivates him (she can tell because his eyes always linger a little longer.) 

_Quiero decir que igual estando allí a las doce o a la una o a las siete de la mañana sería suficiente,_ ¿ _no?_ – he insists, lightly touching her arm, so prudently that, if she wasn't paying attention to the way his eyes never hold hers for too long, she wouldn't have caught any hint of insecurity. A quick scan of his body language tells her he is unsure whether he has the right to ask her to stay. The fact that he is kind of asking anyway is a telltale sign that this connection she feels is not one-sided.

She tags his calculated boldness as his strategy #2 to persuade her not to leave and wonders what other tactics he has stored in that intricate mind of his; how many of those will he show her tonight between this very moment and her walking out the door. 

His hand drops from her skin and Raquel takes a deep breath, holding his gaze. Calculating her next move, she looks down to the leather cushion and braces herself in a spot right next to his body, moving forward in search of his lips. The angle is unique in that it allows her to explore him as if for the very first time. Sergio supports the back of her head, welcoming her without imposing himself – and it is this easy communication between them that makes it all that much harder to step away from.

His fingers play with her hair as his mouth engages with hers with such a devotion that she files it away under ‘strategy #3’: a wordless, sensual attempt to change her mind. 

_Lo siento, no me voy a quedar_ – she reiterates her decision with a shake of her head, thinking of Paulita waiting for her at home but not shying away from his quietly challenging stare. He might not know her that well, but she is way past denying her tendency to dive headfirst. The longer she stays with him, the harder she will let herself fall and without parachutes at that. With everything else going on in her life, – a messy divorce, a child who is thoroughly confused, her growing concern over her mother’s health, a treacherous heist, an unforgiving public opinion that has been suffocating her under its boots – she needs this (whatever _this_ is) to slow down.

Sergio sends her a timid smile. He still looks disquieted, she thinks, but somehow conformed too; his fingertips massaging her scalp in a comforting way as if finally accepting the fact that she will leave in the next few minutes.

When her left arm extends so that her now cold fingers can pick up her skirt, regretful as she is to put it back on, the sight of a lonely keyboard in the corner of the room captures her attention. Raquel is immediately intrigued by the instrument and asks Sergio if he knows how to play it. The way he puts on his shirt with suddenly flushed cheeks and a modest shrug lets her know that the answer is affirmative, though she doesn’t expect him to admit so. His lips curl up in a self-conscious way as he pushes the thick frame of his glasses into the gap between his eyes, getting up without uttering a single word.

She has a feeling that impressing her is his strategy #4 and she will gladly humor him.

The view of his elegant body walking away from her and adjusting his posture on the black bench without a hint of awkwardness, wearing nothing but boxers and an unbuttoned shirt, is enough to get Raquel biting down on her lip to keep herself from diverting from her intention of leaving. As Sergio prepares to give her a private show (she likes to think about it that way,) – flexing his fingers, stretching out his arms, the shape of his back looking enticing underneath the wrinkled shirt, – Raquel takes a few seconds to study him. The man she knows as Salva is a mystery, no doubt. Sometimes shy and seemingly out of place, and, in the next minute, completely assertive and commandeering. Is he a voyeur, she wonders? Mostly submissive? A concealed dominator, perhaps? All of it in one, it seems; so willing to both seize and relinquish control. If he is inexperienced – which sometimes he seems to be, touching her with cautious, shaky hands, constantly checking for her explicit consent, – he is the fastest learner she has ever met. What she told him earlier on – that she can't quite figure him out – is categorically true and Raquel wishes she had at least twenty-four plus hours, or perhaps twenty-four weeks, to dig into the universe that is his complex personality. She would have a field day delving into his beautiful mind, recalling so many of the behavior analysis theories in which she immersed herself during her strenuous but exciting years as a psychology student.

As the first musical notes of an unfamiliar song fly around the room, she realizes that a few minutes is all she has left tonight, and she will relish every single second of them until they meet again.

Raquel feels supremely confident, strolling through his shed like she owns the place. Sergio continues to perform as he shuffles to the left, making space for her without even looking her way as if they are used to communicating on a deeper level already. When she is about to join him, he looks invitingly at her and Raquel responds with a jovial grin. Watching his fingers move over the black and white keys, she thinks that there must be something fundamentally wrong with her when she finds herself envious towards that inanimate object. The thought itself makes her snort out a laugh, slightly rolling her eyes at her own helplessness. She chances a look at Sergio, finding him completely focused and seemingly at ease. As he effortlessly plays the jazzy beat, she continues to watch his knuckles dance, comfortably propping her weight on her left wrist, positioning it right by his buttocks. They are sitting so close that his elbow is almost bumping against her breast and the expectancy of this minute friction alone makes her axons feel like they are about to short-circuit.

With a chuckle, Raquel feels a gush of slickness gathering up on her panties and all she wants is to shift his attention away from those lucky shiny keys mocking her as they hold him enthralled... Despite of the dozen filthy thoughts accelerating her heartbeats, she soaks in the sight of this man who is anything but ordinary – the heavy frames of the glasses that function like a shield that protects him from the world, the shape of his nose, his watchful dark eyes, the thickness of his well-kept beard, the delicate lips that have already learned how to make her shiver. 'Salva', she thinks, is all male, through and through, but not overwhelmingly so and this seeming contradiction certainly adds to his charm. She's smiling at him as he nears the end of the song, wrapping up the melody with a saucy note. When he finally regards her, she takes a deep calming breath and lays her sentiments bare for him to see. He seems uncertain – afraid to be mocked, perhaps, or uncomfortable about sharing something he may consider so intimate with another person now that his hands cannot distract themselves with a task, – until his expression turns into raw desire.

Their eyes rival at first, but eventually he looks down at her lips in a silent but obvious request that makes her heart skips a beat. She waits for his eyes to crawl back up to hers, letting this tension between them simmer to a boil, before sliding her gaze towards his mouth in a prophecy she fully intends to fulfil. Raquel pulls him closer by the base of his skull, throwing herself at him without any pretense. When their mouths lock, he turns his frame a bit to his right, angling himself better into the kiss. They go too long without breathing properly and, at some point, they part to intake a lungful of oxygen. Raquel and Sergio exhale into each other's faces, making the room feel five times hotter than it was a few seconds before. The scent of his breath is irresistible, so Raquel pulls at his hair to taste him again, more ravenously now. Doing so must have ignited something inside of Sergio because his left hand attaches itself to the back of her head as he stretches out his jaw to devour her back. They keep up with each other; the animalistic sounds of their mouths clashing get persistently louder. As his right hand imprints itself on her left thigh, sliding upwards to tease the fabric of her underwear on the side of her hip, Raquel’s fingers trail down the warm skin of his throat, the coarse hairs on his chest, rubbing his nipples, scratching his hardened abs.

Pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth is the last thing Raquel registers before Sergio grabs the back of her legs, lifting her like she is as light as a feather, and carefully places her on top of his thighs. He swings both their bodies to his left and her worlds spins. She yelps at the sudden movement, opening her alarmed eyes to find him looking at her with the adorable, teasing smile of an audacious young man who has never had his heart broken. 

"I won’t let you fall, Raquel,” he vows smartly, tightening his grip around her midsection as if to make a point.

They face each other now, chest to chest, the long-forgotten keyboard right behind her. 

Her fingers dig into his lean biceps – until now, Raquel hadn’t even realized she was squeezing them so tightly, probably out of reflex, – his muscles splendidly rigid as he supports her weight.

"Promise?" she flirts back, so easily, and goes even further as to exploit the heavy ambiguity his name provides in the context that they find themselves in, “ _Mi Salvadorrr_." They burst out laughing at the overdramatic tone of her voice calling him her savior, calling him hers – playing out like a scene in one of those _telenovelas_ her mom watches every night, – though her intentions are nowhere near trivialities. Raquel’s right hand knows exactly where to go as it climbs up past his well-developed shoulder until the pad of her thumb drags his swollen bottom lip, slowly parting his mouth, catching a glimpse of the tongue she cannot wait to taste once more. His eyelids fall shut at her barely-there yet lustful touch. She takes it as a permission to let herself bask in the fantasy that this man is trusting her to also catch his fall, if only for tonight.

Holding onto his neck for support, Raquel straddles him more comfortably, loving the way his palms naturally coast through the dip of her spine. When her clit bumps against the bulge of his pants, she moans out his nickname with pleasure. His eyes quickly chase hers at the desperate sound and they hold a whole conversation with their gazes alone, his hips now rolling in sync with hers. They are both panting by the time she moves even closer, squeezing her bra-covered nipples against his almost-bare chest as she claims his lips. Sergio moves his tongue languidly around hers. Raquel wraps her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his coccyx. When she grabs a handful of his shirt, getting _this close_ to divesting him of the annoying fabric, he gives her ass a long squeeze. "I gotta go," says Raquel, between kisses, like she is the one who needs convincing. The contrast between his harsh beard and soft lips is beyond addictive, and so she keeps on craving his kisses non-stop, promising herself that each one will be the last. When his fingers dip under her shirt to flirt with her delicate bra, Raquel mumbles, “I really can’t stay,” against his lips, struggling to open her eyelids so heavy with appetite. 

“Hey," Sergio holds up his hands in a defensive mannerism and Raquel holds onto his shoulders for balance, "I'm not doing anything."

She catalogs this act of pretending to be indifferent to her as his strategy #5 to delay her exit.

His voice is hoarse when he shrugs his shoulders playfully,

"You're the one kissing me."

“Oh, _I_ ’m the one kissing you?” she retorts with a raised eyebrow, pointing towards her own chest with feigned offense. Raquel quickly catches herself, though, thinking back to the very moment Sergio stopped playing the keyboard and she all but attacked him. She bites the corner where her lips meet, deflating jokingly, “I did initiate the kiss, didn’t I?"

He bows his head towards her with a playful drop of arrogance in response.

"You poor little thing… You could have said something." She mocks him with a pat on his chest and a condescending timbre, knowing it will drive him insane. “I would hate to take advantage of you.”

They regard one another long enough for the atmosphere to change.

Their eyes start to wrinkle on the sides right before they giggle uncontrollably, their foreheads touching as they surf together through this easy banter they share. Her hands cup his face lovingly; his, return to the curve of her waist like they belong there.

At some point, her fingers descend to navigate through the warm cocoon between the textured skin of his torso and his loose shirt, taking her time there. The small hairs in Raquel’s forearms stand up in excitement as she inches closer to brush her lips against the tender spot right below his right ear. That area smells so strongly of _Salva_ and, when her tongue comes out to play, she realizes his taste already triggers a series of memories of them laughing at the Hanoi, him patiently listening to her ramblings, his hands exploring her skin with curiosity, holding the door open for her, his eyes analyzing her reactions as his lips make her brain turn to jelly. Feeling his pores erupt at her touch – and loving how she can affect him this much with just a kiss, – Raquel slides the tip of her fingers, and then the palms of her hands, through his rib cage to calm him down. The contact is weirdly domestic and beyond humbling.

She feels exposed when a genuine confession escapes her lips,

“You make it so hard to leave.”

The intense way Sergio looks at her makes Raquel really wish she could have this man for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“Don’t leave, then.” His words are strong and resolute, but, as he adjusts his glasses and shields his eyes away from hers, his demeanor is contained as it is often the case when he is asking for things for does not deem himself entitled to. For a man exceptionally brilliant and strong, something must have happened in his life to make him feel the need to shrink himself. As a middle-aged woman, working in a male-dominant field, she knows exactly the feeling. 

“ _Quédate conmigo_ ,” he finally verbalizes his wish for her to stay, his accent spreading like wildfire through her veins.

Raquel identifies this as his strategy #6 – his most efficient one so far – and wishes she could tell him that being himself is all he ever needs to be around her; no masks, no playing around.

"Just one more hour,” he almost pleads, adjusting that sneaky tendril of hair behind her left ear in a sweet gesture.

Raquel narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, giving him the look that she saves for Paula when they negotiate watching cartoons before bedtime. She moves forward to kiss him and he retreats, looking between her eyes and lips without ever meeting her halfway, like he needs to hear an unequivocal answer this time around. The seconds drag out and, when he bows to meet her lips – whether in an attempt to assuage this tension between them, not knowing if he’s played his hand too far, or because he simply cannot resist her any longer, – she is the one who falls backwards to stay just a tiny distance out of his reach.

“And what do you need that extra hour for, uh?” teases Raquel, refraining from telling him that she is not going anywhere at this point.

Sergio replicates without preamble,

“Let me show it to you.”

As if his raspy voice carrying these words straight to her ear isn't enough to make her clit throb, his left knuckles tenderly swipe her tresses away from the right side of her neck. His other hand grabs her locks like a loose hair tie, keeping it away from her face. Sergio takes his time admiring her and she can almost feel his umber orbs caressing the expanse of her skin under his gaze. For the most part, his over-calculating nature drives her absolutely nuts. But there are times, like now, when the anticipation he builds is so irresistible that Raquel swears she could come undone without him even reaching the places she yearns to be touched.

He shifts closer, dropping a chaste kiss on her bare shoulder. The ends of his short hair tease her temple and Raquel is already disoriented, grasping at his back muscles. Turning the smallest degree so that the right side of his face is touching hers, Sergio slowly drags his beard against her cheek. As his hand holds her head in place with a firm – though not aggressive – grip on her hair, the bridge of his nose follows the line of her jaw. He breathes her in so strongly that the air being sucked into his nostrils tickle her skin. Her body trembles, her fingernails digging into his flesh so deeply that the sting should still bother him throughout the day. (She loves knowing that he will still feel her on his skin even when she’s no longer around.) The sound of the plastic frame of his glasses rasping against her cheekbone makes Raquel get even wetter because it confirms it is that timid guy she met in a coffee shop slash bar, and no one else, tempting her like this.

And, oooh, there he is – heading over to her earlobe and, _joder_ , softly nibbling on it, then dragging down the very tip of his nose across that tendon on the side of her neck like a sweet promise, or maybe a warning, she doesn't know, doesn't really care, and, oh, yes, _yesyesyes_ , she can't help but purr longingly, feeling him drop little butterfly kisses all over her heated collar, tightening his grip on her scalp, and, God help her, there he goes again – lavishing her with all his attention, his dry lips working his way up her neck until he finds the perfect spot to lightly suck her tender skin at first, then more obscenely, but not to the point of drawing a hickey – and, ohhh, he’s running the flat of his delicious tongue against her prickling skin and she's holding on to his shirt like she's on vertigo and nothing else really matters anymore.

The room has grown scalding, and so Raquel uses the rest of whatever energy she still has left to lean her upper body backwards in a silent request for his fingers to let go of her hair – which they do. She pulls her top over her head and quickly discards her bra, not caring where either will fall.

Sergio’s right hand, now free, heads straight to her left breast, gently cupping her round flesh, keeping his attention on her face as he squeezes the hardened peak in a way that is borderline painful but so, so hot. She whimpers and he smiles satisfactorily, like reading her is a pleasure in itself, before sliding his hand down beyond the waistband of her panties, insinuating two fingerprints against her clothed center. She winces at the promising contact, and arches her back, wanting more, grabbing her right breast to ride out the electric charge running through her spine.

“God,” she hears him breathe out, “but you’re beautiful.”

Intoxicated by his touch, Raquel glances up to find his thirsty eyes gliding through her curves, his irises nothing but two black holes swallowing her up. Sergio keeps on playing with her, switching between pressing down on her clit and massaging her outer lips through the black lace.

Trusting the weight of her body on his left arm, which is draped across the small of her back, Raquel bends her knees and balances her heels on his hips. Spreading her legs apart without losing balance, she challenges him to move forth with his plan.

Upon meeting her eyes to ensure he has accurately caught her bait, Sergio takes off his shirt and bends forward to drape the fabric, now folded in half, across the center of the keyboard. He returns to the small of her back while a finger of his right hand cautiously pulls her panties to the side. She is not surprised to feel one of his digits promptly dipping into her vagina and dragging her juices up and around her swollen bundle of nerves. She is taken aback, though, by the fact that he carefully pushes her body down until a portion of her back is resting on the keyboard, the smooth material of his shirt softening her impact against the surface. The sound of her weight pressing the keys is nowhere near as gracious as when he was masterfully manipulating them. (Whenever Paula grows interested in music theory, Raquel hopes she will favor a guitar, a flute or even drums because there is no way she will ever look at any piano-like instrument the same way again.) Unaware of her musings, Sergio drops his forehead on her collarbone, exhaling as if not prepared to find that she is this aroused already.

“Do you always get this wet?” he whispers against her breasts like it's a secret, continuing his ministrations below her navel as he sits back up straight.

“I usually get pretty wet,” her voice is unrecognizable as she shakes her head and licks her dry lips, “but not this fast, not like this.”

Raquel knows this will stroke his ego, watches the incongruence of his cheeks growing pink and his eyes going darker as her words hit him, but it is nothing if not the truth.

Sergio slowly moves two fingers into her channel, bringing them back out only to push them all the way in again. The sight of his biceps and triceps moving every time his hands switch directions is mouthwatering. He must be on the same page, Raquel guesses, because his tongue comes out to wet his lips every time his knuckles retreat and her juices reflect the low light in his cider factory. Every so often, he looks up to her face, trying to pick up what she may or may not like, and she hides nothing from him.

The sensation of his thick fingers, soaked with her honey, stretching out her entrance non-stop, is threatening to overwhelm her… yet, Raquel wants more.

“Curl them up,” she instructs him, looking down to witness what he is doing to her body.

Sergio immediately does a ‘come here’ with his middle and index fingers and she can feel the exact moment he bumps against her g-spot because her breasts get heavier and her core tightens up. His mouth does an ‘o’ shape and he looks at her like a famished man.

“There?” he asks for confirmation, always so eager to learn, repeatedly stroking her most sensitive tissues.

Raquel nods, relaxing her body to let the amazing sensation take over her. “Right there.”

And just like that, Sergio goes from being an apprentice to fingering her with purpose. His thumb brushes up every so often against her clit and Raquel feels her skin break up in a sweat, the wet sound of him pleasuring her pervading the room. Without ever ceasing his motions between her legs, he bows towards her chest and she watches his tongue swipe up against her nipple; the bulgy peak disappearing into his mouth as he sucks on it with fervor. Raquel tugs on his hair, detaching her right foot from his hip so that her toes can follow the expansion of his clothed dick, pressing down against it.

His mouth leaves her breast with a groan as he sits back up, his lips red from feeding on her.

“Can you come like this?” Sergio visibly flexes his jaw muscles. His arm must be getting tired, she thinks, but his rhythm never falters.

"Without stimulating my clit?” She looks past his shoulders, trying to recall if she ever did so before. “I don't know."

A part of her wants to tell him that the things he is doing to her feel so fucking good that it doesn’t really matter if she is going back home tonight without climaxing once more. But the prospect of discovering something new about her own body surely makes her want to give this a try. Intending to increase the gap between their legs – to give him more room to play and allow herself to take part in this exchange, – Raquel braces her elbows on the keyboard with a loud clank and plants her feet on the bench, attaching her ankles to the outside of his thighs.

“Talk to me,” she proposes, and he frowns, watching her move around, trying to figure out what she expects him to say. “Let me hear your voice.”

His eyes grow wide beneath his lenses, his mind catching everything that she is implying. Sergio keeps on greedily poking her pliant body, looking around the room, hunting for words. When Raquel starts squatting on his hand, catching up with the flow it imposes, Sergio finally confesses what she had already guessed the moment she started to put her clothes back on,

"I don't want this night to end.”

His vocal timbre is deep, full of desire, and just the thought that this mysterious man might be peeling off some of his layers to her (however superficial they may be) pushes Raquel a little bit closer to the edge.

“But if this is all we have, I'm saving a whole room of Raquel Murillo in my memory palace.”

He keeps on stocking his fist towards her channel like there is no other place on the planet he would rather be, and Raquel finds it hard to follow his thought process, distracted as she is by the enticing mess between her legs.

“How you don’t blush easily, except for when you feel like you’re embarrassing yourself, and you try to hide your face behind your hands, which only makes you blush even more.” Sergio smiles, shaking his head to himself. “How you purse your lips in frustration when something doesn’t go according to plan.” His fingers pick up speed as he recites the words, observing how her body undulates in tandem with his arm. His eyes finally meet hers, dark and serious. “How when something makes you happy, like really really happy, you let out the most gorgeous laugh I have ever heard, crinkling your nose.” The edges of his eyes curl up and he never shifts his focus away from her. “How your sweetest smile only comes out when you talk about your daughter.” Sergio looks at her with adoration, then rolls his eyes at her, “How you insist on trying to hold that stubborn strand of your hair behind your ear, knowing it will fall on your face again and again.” Circling the pad of his middle finger around her g-spot without directly compressing it, he asks,

“Is this weird?"

_Weird?_ She repeats his word in her head. Whether he is referring to the way he is touching her or his vivid descriptions of how her mind works, it’s been almost a decade since someone cared enough to look at her – truly look at her.

"No,” her head desperately moves from one side to the other, her fingertips pushing random key notes as she tries not to lose her grip. “I don't think anyone has ever held a place for me in their memory palace."

"I highly doubt that,” Sergio replies automatically with a dismissive snort, investing his fingers in and out of her at a quick pace. “And making sure you’ll walk out of here feeling a little sore it’s my way of letting them know."

He doesn’t specify who ‘they’ are but, on an intuitive level – even if he means it only hypothetically, – Raquel can easily identify (at least some) prospective candidates. Despite of having a good woman by his side, Ángel never really got over Cercedilla; Suarez has yet to ask her on a date but checks her out every chance he gets; that waiter in Hanoi slipped his number on a receipt paper right in front of Salva during their coffee break two days ago.

“Know what?” she demands, holding his gaze, finding it hard to formulate a full sentence when her core is burning this hot with oncoming pleasure. She is precariously holding the weight of her upper body on the keyboard behind her, impaling her eager pussy on his fingers. “What are you letting them know, Salva?”

Her voice is breathy because she can feel it: her orgasm is right there, just slightly out of reach. If he can only say the right thing, whatever that is, then maybe–

“That only you choose with whom you want to be.” Sergio balances the weight of her lower body on his legs, rushing his left hand to confine her hips, pressing her down. His fingertips push up harder into her, marking the pause between his words, making Raquel start seeing stars in the corners of her eyes. “That I’m the one you chose tonight.”

Hearing this attractive man empower her while admitting to a drop of healthy possessiveness makes Raquel come with a sharp cry.

One of her hands reach out to hold on to his wrist, preventing his fingers from going anywhere, making sure he feels her walls crumbling around him as she explodes with lust. (At least, now they know she can certainly come like this.) His left arm relocates to support her back, knowing she does not have enough strength to keep up anymore.

Raquel cannot breathe; can only feel her toes curling, her abs recoiling, her soul floating out of her body as he sits there, drinking her in, watching her gasp for air right before his hungry gaze.

By the time her heart starts slowing down, Sergio helps her slide her feet off the bench, guiding her to sit on his thighs once again. He slowly pulls his fingers out of her drenched cunt, running the back of his knuckles through her slit – but barely, as not to overwhelm her, – making her shiver anyway. Her head falls in the nook between his neck and shoulder, and the warm scent of his skin brings her back down to Earth. His ring finger and pinkie methodically adjust the lace of her panties back on her center, preventing the lace from hitting the place where she is the most sensitive right now.

“And to think that I was jealous of that keyboard…” Raquel breathes out, utterly satisfied, reaching back to play some random chord with a cunning smile.

His unrestrained laugh is somewhat muffled by the out of tune melody bouncing off the walls, though the affectionate spark in his eyes is unmistakable. “That keyboard has got nothing on you, Raquel.” Holding her gaze, Sergio brings his two dexterous knuckles towards his mouth and she watches his expression switch to something primal as he sucks them clean, his eyes rolling once her essence saturates his tongue.

The sight alone makes her pussy blink, fancying more of him already.

“Yeah?” she asks rhetorically, bending forward to sip on his charming smirk. He welcomes her immediately and Raquel orbits his tongue with her own, taking immense pride in finding her savory flavor all over him. With eyes closed, they instinctively search for each other’s hands, fingers rubbing deliberately, palms fitting together. Raquel and Sergio bend their necks to opposite sides, groaning as their lips slip back and forth, gliding with untamed passion. When their caresses naturally slow down to soft pecks and teasing bites, a tempting idea strikes Raquel. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Mm?” Sergio regards her with curiosity, tightening his fingers on hers.

"Do you want to add something new to that memory palace of yours?" Her brown eyes smile mischievously as his head bobs a ‘yes’ with a gist of anticipation. Raquel graciously extricates herself from his lap and brings him up along with her until they are standing toe to toe.

She walks backwards to the couch, leading him by the fingertips like they are about to waltz in the middle of his warehouse. She wonders if he would play along if she started to dance here – wonders if he is as sweet with his feet as he is with his hands and lips, – but her craving for sex is unmitigated. Smiling to herself, Raquel vows to figure it out someday…

Taking a step back, she hooks two fingers on the side wings of her ruined panties, bending over to take them all the way out of her legs. Raquel watches his Adam’s apple ascend and descent in his throat as he follows her movements with his eyes. His crotch is almost at her eye level, so she knows exactly what kind of thoughts are running through his mind. Her gaze drops to find his masculinity straining against his boxers and she jumps right in to carefully divest him of his underwear. While Sergio steps out of the fabric, she keeps a close watch on the way his exuberant cock stands proudly, his dark pink head drooling with precum, tempting Raquel to ditch her plans and just taste him already... Once she starts, though, she knows she will only stop when he is screaming her name, attaching his fingers to the back of her head as he moves all the way into her mouth. Taking a deep breath that invites his musky scent into her nostrils, she pushes her weight onto the top of his legs, – rasping her fingertips through the dark coarse hair at the base of his erect member before closing her hand around his silky flesh as she rises to her feet.

Upon seeing his mouth part and his brows curl with desire, Raquel lets him go after a few long pumps. The way he grunts his opposition grants her the extra kick that she needs to turn around towards the couch, climbing on the cushion on her knees as she grabs the backrest to stabilize herself. Raquel throws her hair to the left side of her face and looks back at him from above her right shoulder, tracking his gaze as it slides down from her eyes to her lips, her hair, her waist, and finally, _finally, fi–na–lly_ , her ass presenting itself to him without an ounce of reservation.

“ _Joooder_ , Raquel,” he pleads for mercy more than exclaims, arms raised and chest exposed like a phoenix, hands flying towards the nape of his neck as if he needs to ground himself somehow. His breathing is heavy, his mouth agape as his eyes keep gliding through her curves in astonishment.

Unlike him, she knows that vision alone – no matter how mesmerizing – will not satisfy their hunger.

Raquel reaches down and flicks her swollen clit; her wetness so absolute that her fingerprint slides effortlessly. She cries out his nickname, facing the ceiling with narrowed eyes, picturing him taking her from behind on this very sofa. Her knees instinctively move further apart as she bends over, giving him an even more complete view of her intimacy.

It is not long until the heat of his body emanates from behind her and one of his palms follows the expanse of her spine from her cervical to her lumbar, his exploration warm and curious. She whimpers at the contact, circling her bundle of nerves at a quicker tempo before stopping altogether, favoring his touch to her own.

Sergio squeezes her glutes, testing the feel and weight of them under his hands, letting his fingers wander freely, caressing her shape with reverence, spreading her cheeks apart to study her more intimately. She feels her face go warmer at the (hopefully vague) possibility that he may not like what he sees, but any trace of insecurity vanishes when she feels his hot, damp breath hit the back of her thighs. Sergio kisses each of her globes a handful of times, licking her heated skin with appreciative groans, massaging her back muscles as he climbs up, teasing her vertebrae with long brushes of his thick facial hair as he looks down to watch the way his fingers dig into her ass cheeks.

“Salva,” she barely registers the syllables leaving her lips, so lost in the ecstasy that he precipitates on her body.

Raquel catches Sergio looking around the room in search of something. “My purse,” she blurts out, pointing in the general direction of the coffee table. He looks at her with an expression she that cannot quite interpret – maybe he is not used to people reading his body language; maybe he is one of those sexist men who do not expect a woman to bring a condom to a date just in case it escalates to something more than a few drinks?

Hearing him rush through her things and rip a plastic wrap without hesitation – exhaling in a way that tells her he is playing with himself a bit before putting on the condom, – fills Raquel with the anticipation that, at any second now, he will be driving into her heat at last.

Instead, Sergio attaches his chest to her back, bracing his hands around hers on the back of the couch. “I have an important question for you.”

His words are deliberate, but his tone is filled with unchecked lust.

“Yes?” she gathers, a little impatiently.

Unable to humor the prospect of him dragging this out, Raquel takes advantage of the fact that his erection is stretched along her slit to manipulate her inner lips back and forth against him until his head is poking at her clit in an inflexion that puts her fingers to shame.

His beard brushes up against her ear cartilage when he proposes nonchalantly,

“Glasses on or off?”

Raquel can feel his lips widening on her skin as he drops a kiss on her hairline.

It takes her a few seconds to connect the dots, reviewing their conversation from earlier on in her head – _Es que, no sé, así (sin las gafas) pareces otra persona; como Superman y Clark Kent_.

Raquel releases a guttural laugh – probably one of those that he says makes her nose crinkle. She throws her head back on his shoulder, his arms locked around her stomach, their bodies rocking together with joy at the absurdity of these games that they play.

“I don’t care,” Raquel brings a hand over her shoulders to comb through his dark hair, her short nails scratching the sweaty skin at the base of his neck. Sergio presses his crotch into her behind as she candidly adds, “Superman, Clark, Salvador, whoever the hell you are," she pushes her ass back against his body without hesitation, chewing on her bottom lip,

"Just take me."

" _Sí, Señora_ ," he promptly retorts, nodding his head only once in an obedient gesture that fully contradicts the impropriety coating his voice.

Sergio breathes into her hair before detaching his body from hers. 

Raquel follow his movements with her eyes to verify which option he will choose – the tantalizing question of whether he is going fuck her with or without glasses usurps her unfocused mind, – amazed to watch him slide the black frame up to the top of his head with a hint of impatience, holding his hair back in a carelessly sexy fashion. 

_No Superman, no Clark Kent – just Salva._

By the time she turns back around to her original stance, Sergio is gently pushing down on her coccyx, calculating their heights with precision before circling her entrance with his head as if to ascertain her readiness for him.

“Ohhhh,” the air gets knocked out of her lungs the moment he slowly penetrates her, moving nothing but his swollen head in and out of her, giving them time to adjust to each other.

Without regard for his impressive self-control, Raquel sits back on his length, using the sturdy frame the couch as leverage to push her body backward and forward against his groin, avidly creaming him for what she is worth. He feels ungodly as she takes him as deep as she can from this angle.

“ _Jooodeeeer_ ,” she draws out the o’s and the e’s, enthralled with the sensation of his hard flesh expanding her walls. He must not have been expecting her willingness to take him like this, or her verbalization of it, because Sergio pushes back against her body, diving all the way in – but only once, – his hands trembling around her waist as he tries to keep her, or himself, in place. A long, needy sight falls from her lips and Raquel finds herself digging her nails into the leather to the point where it hurts. He has buried himself to the hilt and the way he is consuming her every corner is beyond arousing, his measurements just right for her. Raquel cannot help herself, going back to swallowing his elegant dick with her eager cunt despite his wordless request for them to take this slow.

“ _Ayy_ ,” he finally gives in with a lament and she chances a look his way to find his head tilted backwards, the tendons around his trachea popping out and his abs contracting with bliss. “ _Que delicia_ …” he lets her know how good she feels around him, sounding feverish with want, gently touching the curve of her ass as he stands still, letting her ride him. Raquel does not think he is even aware he is saying the words aloud, shoving them out of his throat as if he can hardly wrap his mind around what is going on.

A few minutes go by and her legs start to burn from the effort, though Raquel keeps on sensuously dancing on his member as it massages her throbbing tissues in the most rewarding way imaginable. As if reading her unspoken thoughts, Sergio picks up on her cadence, his fingers choking her waistline, using his position and strength to move his hips towards and away from her with purpose. The dirty sound of his pelvis smacking her cheeks – outmatching the squeaky couch – only adds to the gut-wrenching libido finding solace in her lower stomach; her neck and back exploding in goosebumps.

“ _Dios_ , Salva,” she hisses as he keeps on driving half of his extension into her soaked pussy.

Raquel craves for it all, though; every single inch of him.

Hoping he will catch her drift, she bends over to rest her face on her forearms, sticking out her buttocks to take him deeper.

Sergio grumbles like a mad man at the change in curvature, giving her a long hard shove in response as if asking, ‘Is this what you want?’

‘Yes,’ she feels herself melting around him, ‘This is precisely it.’

Raquel wants him to take her so deep she will feel him in the back of her throat. She wants to come hard, release all the frustration that has been bottled up inside her in the last few days (last few months, really.) She wants to imprint herself on his neurons so that, years from now, when he is fucking a woman who carries half of the baggage that Raquel brings within herself, he will still look back to tonight, will still think of how that police inspector felt, what she tasted and sounded like.

He starts moving faster, grabbing her shoulder to steady her, though she can tell that he is still moving mechanically, restraining himself to some degree.

“ _Más duro_ ,” she orders Sergio to take her harder, talking to him like she would a lower ranking officer who has just compromised a high-priority operation.

“Raquel,” he grimaces from her profile view, warning her ‘off’ with a few shakes of his head, silently telling her that she is playing with fire.

“Salva,” she clamps her inner muscles around his rock-hard cock, letting it show on her face – her eyes watering with thirst, her teeth sinking on her lips with hunger – how badly she wants this. “I thought you wanted to make me sore so I wouldn’t go to other men?”

Raquel knows she’s playing dirty and the way he grabs each of her breasts with a strong grip, pinching her nipples, investing more deeply into her, confirms that he agrees wholeheartedly with that notion.

The sound of their bodies colliding is almost hollow now.

“ _Estás segura_?” he is gulping for air, still wanting to assert that she is unequivocally sure of what she is asking.

Instead of granting a verbal response, Raquel aims her challenging stare directly at him, swirling her pelvis around his hardness with an aggressive twist to make her point.

Sergio kneels on the couch right behind her, his legs on the outside of hers. Towering over her smaller physique, he uses his weight to push her front against the back cushion with a reckless attitude. Her heavy nipples smash up against the rough fabric of the couch, making her feel the extraterrestrial friction down to her starving, neglected clit. Sergio clenches a fist in her hair, tipping it back so their eyes can meet. He gives her temple a soft peck, and murmurs fondly against her cheek,

“You tell me stop at any time and I will.”

She nods with sobriety at his genuine concern and he takes his glasses off his head, folding them on the opposite corner of the couch as far as he can reach.

This duality within him – the aggressive inclination that sometimes peaks out from his obviously affectionate heart, the careless behavior of a man who is so patently prone to an orderly existence, – has never been clearer. Raquel feels a rapturous shiver spark through her nerve endings as she tries to comprehend, for the nth time tonight, how he can navigate so naturally from one end of the spectrum to the other. It is equally as fascinating and it is scary, and it makes her want him more and more.

Raquel takes a deep breath, relaxing her muscles as the left side of her face rests on the back pillow, entrusting her body to him. Sergio’s claws her hips greedily, roughly bringing her closer to him as he pushes himself all the way into her – one, two, three, four, five deep stabs, – progressively accelerating to an impossible rhythm that she would not be able to catch up to even if she had intended.

“ _Síííí_ ,” her eyes flutter in delight as he keeps on taking her without clemency, just the way she wants it. The front of his thighs hit the back of her legs with full force, burning her insides. “Don’t. You. Dare. Stop,” she manages to let out a single word in between thrusts, urging him on, wanting to drive him as wildly out of control as she feels.

“ _Mujerrrr_ ,” he chokes out at her provocations with a threatening tone, rocking against her with all his power. Though Raquel feels absolutely on fire, there is a chill every time he exhales and the air leaving his lips touches the beads of sweat all over her back.

She understands it now, why he was so hell bent on taking this slow… He wanted to draw things out. They are so worked up already that there is no fucking way this will last much longer, but Raquel isn’t particularly worried about the timing of things.

Not anymore.

All she wants to do is _feel_.

Sergio is all in, screwing her with the herculean urgency that she longed for, grunting out her name as if stuck in a loop of torture and pleasure. Raquel is fucking loving the way their clammy bodies are fiercely moving together, – challenging his grip on her, which makes it all that much more fun – moaning out expletives without any shame, letting him know exactly how exceptional he feels like this. He grabs the back of her neck with one palm, his right foot stepping on the couch to allow him to drive faster and harder into her, changing the angle to poke at her g-spot, his balls slapping hard against her outer lips.

And, suddenly, it’s too much – the smell of Salva and sex, his thick manhood stretching her open (and, _fuck yes_ , she’s going to be fucking sore tomorrow,) her messy juices running down her thighs, the sounds of his eager grunts against her ear shell, the heavy weight of his hand on her hip bone, the tight grip of his fingers on her damp scalp. As if all of this is not enough already, his right hand flies over to her slickness and his middle finger circles her clit – but he’s touching her clockwise when she prefers it counterclock – and it doesn’t matter because it’s _him_ and it’s him doing this to _her_ and maybe it’s exactly because it’s different, she knows it’s not her masturbating alone on her cold bed, it’s someone else, it’s Salva, that sweet stranger from Hanoi with a passion for ciders and his shy smile and smart eyes and sexy hands and this enticing duality she can’t quite figure out and–

Raquel comes ferociously, the world nothing but a black blur lacking enough oxygen to satiate her lungs, screaming his name so loudly that her throat starts to protest. The arch of her feet curls around his glutes, feeling the way they contract when he pushes into her boneless body, the discovery prolonging her own climax and hopefully spiking his. She needs to feel more of him, stake her claim somehow, so her nails sink deep into his thigh, drawing pink crescendos on his hairy skin, and Sergio comes just as desperately, pulsing inside of her, still pumping his way in and out even though he is turning flaccid, his body spasming as he utters the most carnal sound she has ever heard, a roar vibrating his chest against her back.

With whatever dash of fuel that they still have left, Raquel and Sergio look at each other with the realization that their explosive chemistry could only have led them up to this. Their position is not ideal, but their lips still seek each other out in one long, unrushed, panting kiss.

Her knees fault her and, – just as promised, – Sergio catches Raquel as she falls into him, his heartbeats slamming hard against her ribs, his breath caressing her cheek. He arranges their bodies so that he is cradling her in his arms as he lies on the crimson quilt along the couch.

She can see it all play out in her mind – how he will offer to take her home, but she will insist her car it’s just outside and she will be fine; how he will tell her that he will at the very least walk her out and she might indulge in that, enjoying his presence and warmth and scent for as long as she can. A part of her wants him to just lie back, watch her dress slowly and efficiently as it is her turn to put on a show for him. Raquel wants to burn that image in his cornea to guarantee there will be another margarita on the rocks, another kiss, another earth-shattering meeting of bodies. Perhaps she would surprise him then and take things slow.

She turns around in his arms, falling back to the same position they found themselves in when she first decided to head home. (Raquel knows there is no escaping it this time around.) Salva is as handsome as always – his eyes filled with satiety and a little bit of longing, looking like a renaissance painting, just lying here, gazing at her like she is the most gorgeous creature in the whole damn world.

“You know I won’t stop until I’ve figured you out, right?”

She teases, stroking his beard as her thumb memorizes the outline of his lips.

He throws her an enigmatic look and whispers,

“Learning that was the first thing I saved in my memory palace of you.”

For the first time since she met him, Raquel feels like they are having two conversations at once; like the meaning of his words go way beyond her understanding. She notices his walls coming back up, his cautious eyes regarding her like she is his kryptonite or something of the sort… But this perception does not go much further – at least, not now, – since it seems that he has learned how to defuse her well. Sergio smiles charmingly and blows a kiss in that special place on her neck – a mere touch of his lips that she will feel all the way to Hanoi for a coffee with cream before going home to Paula and Mariví.

Raquel knows there is much about this man that she is unaware of – except, maybe, that the next time he asks her to stay until the sun comes up, she will.

-end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAAAA.  
> I freaking love their scenes together in this episode!
> 
> One important clarification, though:  
> I prefer using the third person to analyze how characters think and feel. In this project, the outside observer knows Salva is Sergio/Professor, but Raquel naturally does not. So I made a choice on how to navigate through that: when the narrator is just watching the scene unfold, he refers to Sergio; when he looks too closely into Raquel‘s feelings (like he sometimes did with Sergio in chapter one,) his perspective blends in with her, so he refers to Salva. I hope this wasn’t too confusing throughout the narrative in the second part of the story, but feel free to tell me if it was or wasn’t as it would be helpful in future stories.
> 
> All in all, I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart for accompanying me on ‘Like Superman and Clark Kent’!  
> I had so much fun working on this piece and sharing it with you.  
> (and bless OldStone for the ‘I thought you wanted to make me sore so I wouldn’t go to other men’ line :D among so many other fantastic suggestions)
> 
> Please let me know how you feel about this chapter or the whole story. If there was a part you really liked or didn’t like at all, copy and paste it for me as it helps me understand what people in the fandom are looking for. Every thought, word or idea is beyond inspiring.
> 
> See you in another Serquel adventure? (: 
> 
> Stay safe wherever you are!

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I imagine their first night happened...
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Do they feel out of character? Am I being overly descriptive or focusing on irrelevant details? How can I come up with better dialogues? Please let me know so I can improve my writing of them :) 


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